


We Remain Unsolved

by VoodooPunx



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Drug Use, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-01 13:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17868152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoodooPunx/pseuds/VoodooPunx
Summary: -----ABANDONED WORK-----Klaus dies on his 23rd birthday. Then, he wakes up several hours earlier. Is he trapped in this cycle of death and resurrection forever, or is there something he can do to fix the universe?--A Russian Doll inspired AU.Klaus and Ben are the main focus, but the others play major roles later on. Currently, there is no explicit romance between Ben and Klaus, but that is potentially up for change.I make no promises about the updates. Please bug me (PM or review) if it's been longer than a few days since the last one.





	1. There Is No Other Version Of This Story.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaVoileBlanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaVoileBlanche/gifts).



> For Lana and Sadie, I hate that you got me into this fandom.

It was his birthday. Specifically, his twenty third birthday. It was seven years, almost to the day, that he’d left his family behind. Only if he could call that dysfunctional collection of utter assholes inhabiting the same house as him a family, of course. They weren’t always the best, but goddamn sometimes they were the absolute... worst. There was no sugar coating it. They all sucked. Every single one of them. 

He clamped down on the rising memories and shook his head. “No, no, no.” His face split into a wild grin as he climbed into the pair of trousers that didn’t fit him he’d stolen from the lost and found box at a church several weeks ago. There was a big hole in the knee, but that didn’t matter. He poked at it, stretching the material as far as it would go. The fraying edges made a pretty pattern as he idly knotted the strands together. 

It was a big day for him this year. Nothing from the past mattered any more. Not today.

Today, Klaus was getting out of rehab. Again. 

A glimpse of himself in the dirty mirror in the corner of the room made him wince. He looked worse, somehow, after being in rehab than he had when he was on the streets. His skin was pale from the lack of sunlight, there were dark bags under his eyes from his lack of sleep, and the veins in his arms were stark. The slightly puffiness of his red-rimmed eyes made him look about as bad as he felt.

Even with all of this to take into account, apparently, some of the doctors decided he could leave now. Klaus knew it was only because he wasn’t worth wasting their already scant resources. Klaus was, what they called in the business, a frequent flyer. Rehab was his home for half the month every second or third month that rolled around, normally he’d just wait it out and immediately go to score in the minutes after he’d walked out of their front doors.

Today was going to be different. He was going to stay sober.

 _Yeah_. Fat chance.

Klaus’ veins ached for their buzz. His teeth were vibrating, almost. He could feel the need rising in him as the seconds ticked by on the clock he kept glancing at on the other wall of the room. These rehab rooms were disgusting; cinder blocks with paint slapped over them to make them less depressing, paper thin mattresses lain on top of metal bed frames that were bolted into the floor... It was enough to make someone want to take drugs, even if they hadn't already been addicted. 

“Klaus?” One of the nurses called his name, a pretty woman with a nose that didn’t quite match her face. She waved him over to the doorway of his room. She was dressed in one of those nurse outfits, but he couldn't say he saw the appeal. Nothing about her did anything for him. She was another warm body facilitating his sobriety. 

His body was foreign to him as he pulled himself from the bed he was perched on and sauntered, or the closest he could get while sober, over to her. His legs were both too long and too short for him, but that wouldn’t be a concern in a couple of hours. He’d sweated out the worst of it in the first few days, and now he was just playing the waiting game.

She handed him a sealed bag of his few belongings. A faux leather wallet (empty apart from an unused out of date condom and a loyalty card for a fast food chain with nine out of ten stamps), a necklace made of blue glass beads (he didn’t remember where that came from but he was fairly sure he'd inserted them into someone at some point), a floral Hawaiian print shirt (faded and fraying at the hem) and some skinny black jeans that had been washed since he last saw them (they'd been covered in vomit when he was stripped of them originally).

“Alright Carol,” he waved at her, “See ya next time.”

She shook her head at him, and if he'd stayed to see the sadness in her eyes he might have listened slightly longer, “Stay sober!”

He was already walking away, his strides moving him through the hall without him even consciously thinking about it. Seconds ago, that had been something difficult. What a difference hope could make. There was even a little bounce in his step now. 

The doors to the outside world were ahead of him, and the bored receptionist buzzed him out without even looking up. If only it was that easy when he was dressed like a patient, he'd never have stayed here. This was the worst place in the history of bad places. Maybe that was an overstatement, but it wasn't far off. It wasn't somewhere he'd have chosen to be in a million years. 

Outside the front doors of the rehab clinic, Klaus stood blinking in the light. Everything was a bit brighter than he thought it would be after being cooped up. Did they keep the lights dull in there on purpose? It didn't matter, just like nothing else did right now. There was so much to do, to see, to smell and to fuck. He could do anything he wanted. He was free. It felt just like the first time he walked out on that so-called family. So, what was he going to do?

He didn’t even have to think twice. It was time to get high. But first, he’d need money.

  
-

Less than an hour later, Klaus found himself kneeling in an alleyway while an overweight truck driver thrust at him. It was OK, at times like this, for him to let his mind wander. The bad thoughts wouldn't follow him around at times like this. He had something to do, even if it was an automatic response to the situation he found himself in. Nothing was as boring as giving a robotic blowjob for someone with bad personal hygiene and a tiny cock.

What would he do with the rest of his day? Something fun, hopefully. Maybe hit a rave in town or even just spend the day in the park with that strung out homeless guy. He had a weird name, and that was coming from someone called Klaus. Didn’t matter what the guy's name was, he always had something to share.

But first, he’d have to pop by and see if Vanya was still alive. Something about her always made Klaus feel better about his situation. She was hanging on to a life she’d never live, which was something Klaus had never done. He’d accepted from the off that life was going to be shit, and hard, and it would suck. Hence, the drugs. Vanya though, she’d always tried to look after him. Something about broken baby bird wings, or some other sentimental horseshit. She was soft, sometimes. It was something that Klaus had killed in himself years ago, and to see it on Vanya was distasteful at the best of times, and outright vile when it was directed at him. 

The fat guy came down Klaus’ throat. The hot, acrid taste burned as he swallowed. He could drink almost anything and take pretty much any drug in the world with no problem (although, he _hated_ taking aspirin) but cum was always unpleasant.

There was some shuffling and the guy handed him a handful of notes without looking him in the eye. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Klaus nodded as he climbed to his feet. The hole in the jeans meant he had left gravel imprints in his knee, which he dusted off without thinking about it.

His body took him from the alley and back onto the regular path towards his dealer. It wasn't an uncommon walk for him, from the best place to blow a John to the best place to score anything he could ever want. The Dog and The Bear had a whole lab to share, meaning they were always able to give Klaus the best of anything he wanted. Especially if he bought them a few treats as a thank you, their inability to cope without sugar was a surefire sign of a classic addictive personality. 

He almost walked into a pair of annoyingly drunk men - boys? - about his age as he turned a corner. One looked like every jock that ever bullied him in high school and Klaus felt an instant spike of hatred, the other looked more like if some small kid had spent way too long trying to perfect the bad-ass magician look and had fallen about a mile short of the mark. He laughed to himself, the tittering of a madman. The big one snarled at him, "Watch where you're going, asshole." 

"Watch where I'm going?" Klaus laughed, he realised that this guy looked like a big fucking gorilla, "Fuck you, buddy. You're not my boss." 

The smaller guy placed a hand on the big guy's arm. "Don't, s'not worth it." 

It took the bigger guy a second before he shrugged the other's hand from his arm and tried to walk away. "Whatever, he's a waste of space." 

"So, what," Klaus threw his arms up as he walked backwards away from them, "I'm suddenly not worth your time?" 

His foot came off the curb. The big guy turned back to face him, "No, you're not, junkie." 

"What did you call me?" Klaus stepped back onto the pavement. His anger was boiling in his blood, the itch to do something stupid was insatiable. 

"He called you a junkie." The little guy said, his voice nowhere near what Klaus was expecting. 

Klaus flipped the two men off and turned on his heel, the fur coat he’d found in a dumpster flaring out behind him. The duo kept walking, the small guy following at the heels of the big guy like a lost puppy. Klaus was halfway across the road before he heard the squeal of the breaks.

When the metal frame of the car hit his body and he crumpled like a wet paper napkin, Klaus’ last thought was sheer disappointment that he’d died sober. It just wasn’t the future he’d seen when he woke up this morning.  


	2. We Met With Fire

Klaus blinked in the sunlight. He was stood outside of the rehab clinic, his eyes stinging from adjusting to the brightness after the dimness of the building. He patted his chest, moving around the flat surface. His heart was hammering in his chest, but nothing seemed broken.

“What the fuck.” He whispered to himself. He had definitely not been hit by a car, but goddamn he had _just been hit by a car_. The panic in his chest subsided a fragment as he gathered his breath, “What the fucking fuck... I gotta get high.”

 _Vanya_. She’d probably help him out. Diego wouldn’t, but maybe he’d have stuff that Klaus could… acquire and pass on to a reputable friend for a little bit of financial compensation. OK, he was going to steal something and pawn it, but that served Diego right. Guy was an absolute asshole with some kind of fighting fetish.

He fumbled in his pockets and found absolutely nothing. Oh right, his phone had been smashed at some point and he'd never replaced it. Fair enough. He nodded to himself, shoved both hands in his jean pockets as deep as they'd go and looked both ways before deciding to take a right. 

The walk was almost soothing as he ran over the memories. Maybe he was daydreaming? Potentially even hallucinating. His brain  _was_ very broken, it would make sense if he was to actually end up creating entire new worlds in his own head that they'd end up with him dead. It was, after all, the final way to escape everything that hurt. 

Vanya's place was old and rundown, but what else could she afford? Nothing, because she was on a meagre salary that came from teaching small children how to torture the violin. She wasn't actually a bad violinist herself, but she'd not gotten into a major orchestra yet. Klaus buzzed himself into the apartment building, the smell of stale urine and cat hit him like a ton of bricks. It was disgusting, worse than the rehab clinic. 

His body took him automatically up the stairs, two at a time, and landed him right in front of Vanya's door. Soft strains of the violin floated from under the doorway. Vanya was home, so he probably couldn't just walk in like he used to. He knocked. 

"He's not here Mrs Kowalski," Vanya called out from the other side of the door.

"But you are," Klaus muttered before knocking again, making sure to create another funky beat. He spoke a little louder as he said, "Come on, Vanya, what's a guy gotta do to get a door opened over here?" 

"Klaus?!" The violin stopped, there were a couple of thuds and a soft 'ow' before the chain on the door was rattled and the door swung open. Vanya was stood, all five foot something of her, in a ratty old jumper that had holes in the neck hem and the wrists, and a pair of joggers that had seen better days... and looked like they'd been pulled from a dumpster. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, strands of it falling over her eyes as it worked itself loose from the band. "I didn't know you were out?!" 

Klaus grinned and opened his arms, standing spread like Jesus on the cross, "I got out this afternoon, so here I am live and in the flesh!" 

She pulled him inside her apartment. There were stacks of music papers everywhere around the apartment, a half strung violin on the couch, and lots of half drunk coffee mugs had been left around. "Why didn't you call me or something?" 

Klaus looked over at Vanya's table. There was an old brick phone, barely even able to make calls and send texts being used as a paperweight. Hanging from the wall was an old landline, but Klaus knew it was broken so there was legitimately no point in trying. He looked back at the girl. 

"OK, I get it... I'm not... easily contactable." She shrugged, "But still, you didn't even tell me you were going  _in_. Diego told me." 

There was a moment of awkwardness as Klaus struggled to find the words. He scratched his neck; the tattoos on the palm of his hands still felt like they should smudge like the pen used to, but they didn't and it threw him. "Look, I didn't, uh,  _plan_ to go to rehab. It wasn't my choice." 

Vanya threw him a scathing look. "So, what? Diego just threw your unconscious body at the nurses again?" 

"Something like that, yeah..." Klaus nodded. He tried one of his patented disarming smiles. Vanya just rolled her eyes and turned away from him. He followed her from the doorway, kicking the door shut before he walked away from it, and into the space that was the kitchen area. 

Vanya's apartment was pretty close to a studio, except there was a separate (mostly unused) bedroom and a small boxy bathroom with a leaky shower. Klaus knew these things because this was his home-away-from-home. Or, something close to it. He'd spent a lot of nights here, curled up on Vanya's bed sweating out the nightmares. He'd spent less nights with Vanya, cradling her as her own personal nightmares made her want to tear her skin apart and scream. On those nights, he'd hold her until her body gave out and she collapsed into a black, dreamless sleep. 

A new voice called from the other side of the now-closed door, "Vanya?" 

"Oh hey!" Klaus dived back to the door and wrenched it open, "Diego!" 

Diego stood in the doorway, holding a child by the scruff of his neck. "Oh shit, Klaus. Hi." 

Vanya peered around Klaus, saw Diego and the boy, and sighed. "Come in, both of you." 

Klaus backed away from the door until the couch back was pushed against his legs. He decided to go with the flow and lean back, catching himself on the seat. His feet were above his head, and he probably looked like an idiot, but he didn't care. 

Diego and the child stepped into the apartment. The kid was kind of familiar, not amazingly, but Klaus was fairly sure he'd probably seen the kid around the building before. He wriggled on the couch until he was right side up, hooked his elbow over the top and peered at the kid. "What's your name?" 

The kid blinked at him, semi blankly. "Quinn."

Klaus nodded, "Hi, Quinn. I'm Klaus. How do you know this prick?" 

Quinn wriggled out of Diego's grasp. "I live in the building, and he's like... always on my case." 

The older man laughed, "Yeaaahhh, Diego's like that. I don't know why he won't get off my case either. He threw me," Klaus gestured to himself, "Me! In rehab!" 

The sceptical glance from Quinn hurt more than Klaus was going to admit to anyone, even himself. "Doesn't sound like too bad an idea." 

Vanya and Diego had shuffled into the kitchen and were talking in low whispers. She glanced over at the duo that were talking by the couch and shook her head, Diego gently tilted her chin up so they were making eye contact. He looked genuinely worried as he spoke to her. 

"What do you think they're whispering about?" Klaus asked, nodding over in their direction, "my money is on me." 

Quinn shook his head and slipped around the side of the couch, he perched on the end near Klaus' feet. "Nah, it's got to be me. They're always worrying about me. Worse than my mom does." 

Klaus nodded sagely, or at least his closest approximation, "That's fair. They worry about me too." 

Diego and Vanya seemed to have noticed that they were being talked about, Vanya took a half step back from Diego and turned into the counter tops. "Ow." 

"You alright there, Van?" Klaus called across the open space, "I'm sure Diego could kiss it better for you..." 

The duo both coloured in their cheeks, although Vanya had the sense to duck her head and hide it. Quinn hid a quick snicker behind a forced cough. Klaus grinned, entirely at ease. Diego growled something under his breath and walked to the other end of the kitchen, staring daggers at Klaus. 

"I- uh. If you're staying here tonight, Klaus, I'll set up the bedroom. And Quinn, you can have the sofa." Vanya stuttered as she pulled her hair back into a tighter bun, "I'll make pasta or something now... So everyone's eaten." 

Klaus pulled a mock-surprise face at Quinn, ignoring the clicking of the hob from the kitchen. The mock surprise turned to real surprise when the fireball hit his back and everything faded to black. 


End file.
